Kikka No Chigiri
by inafrozenworld
Summary: The Chrysanthemum Pledge' After finding the samurai Kurogane ill on the slopes of his hometown, Fye takes him in and nurses him back to health only to found a bond between them and an unbreakable promise. Based on a Japanese short story of the same title
1. Chapter 1

The snow tumbled gently down on Kurogane's body where he lay, hot, thick breaths escaping his lungs in a cloud of condensation that all but evaporated into the icy air as they rose. He bit down on his teeth, feeling his fingers tremble and his breath shake, overcome by exhaustion as a thin layer of snow settled against his body, lying in a delicate film over him as though trying to bury him alive, the same as any rock or lump or wood, the very same as the ground he lay panting on, propped up against a tree as the world slowly tilted and span in his vision.

His mind trapped in a thick haze, the burning blaze of his forehead was registered numbly and without consequence, as if the thought were trying to push its way through water, its pace slow and draining energy swiftly as it plundered on. In the end he gave up on thinking. He clenched at the hilt of his sword at his waist desperately, needing something solid and familiar to clasp on to as though to comfort himself and give him hope as his breath trembled and his thoughts slipped away, motionless on a snow-swept night on the mountains.

All was quiet and calm, silent save for the faintest whisper of wind carrying fragile flakes of snow he could barely feel against his sweat-drenched body. He had no idea how long it took for his consciousness to finally slip away, to ebb into the darkness of the peaceful night.

***

He awoke within a room with a fire crackling nearby, punctuating the silence with its crackling spatters - comforting, life-affirming and warm. Kurogane felt as though his body was slowly thawing, gradually soothed back to life by the fire in the corner and the warm quiet within the room. However, he was instantly wary, gripping for the sword at his side and finding that there was none. He flicked his eyes about the room and found it was empty bar himself and the fire spluttering peacefully beside him.

Without the strength to move, already feeling a hot and sticky sweat oozing from his skin, he lay himself back down, reasoning he should bide his time regaining his strength and he watched the flickering glow of the fire on the ceiling, bathed in a deep and warm orange that shifted gently with each spit and crack of wood. His eyes refused to close, trained solidly against the ceiling as his mind span restlessly, wondering who had taken him here and why, thinking anxiously of his mission at the other side of the mountain pass and Tomoyo-hime.

Furrowing his brows in bitter remorse, he wondered how protected she would be without him at her side. He was assured only at the thought of Souma's loyalty, of her refusal to stay anywhere but her princess' side.

And then he nearly laughed to himself. So much for making it over the mountains.

The panelling opens with a dry, wooden scrape and behind it a man carrying a tray stands. His kimono pools about the floor boards, dragging slightly though strangely his sleeves are rolled in a peasant manner and his golden hair seems to gleam in the firelight, shining warmly, tumbling down and trickling against his neck in a loosely-held pony-tail. His pale skin glows a creamy white and the steam drifts appetisingly from the bowl he carries, forming miniature wafts of clouds in the cold, icy air.

Without a glance towards Kurogane, the man balances his tray on one arm and slides the panel smoothly shut with a muffled _clack_, sealing them together in the warm, fire-lit room. Finally, he looks down upon Kurogane and smiles, taking in his fierce glare, eyes deeply narrowed in both apprehension and suspicion.

"Don't worry, I'm only trying to help," he says and his voice drifts softly to where Kurogane lies, its soothing lilt wrapping warmly about him though he tries not to allow his suspicions to be dulled.

He makes to get up but the blonde man snaps, "Don't move," and Kurogane is immediately stilled, gritting his teeth at once with annoyance and exertion. It felt like the fibres of his muscles were prepared to snap as he tried to prop himself up with his arms and thankfully, he collapsed back down on to the futon.

So he was resigned to lie about here in some strange room… how pitiful…

Now the man was kneeling at Kurogane's side, laying a hand against his burning, sweat-soaked brow, pursing his lips in thought while Kurogane lies back down on his futon with silent relish, the painful knots in his muscles unwinding. This man's hands are thin and cold, he realises, his eyes are pale and depthless… It seemed his thoughts were still jumbled are clouded, lying in a stinted, tangled mess in his mind from which he could barely define and remove sense and coherency. It panics him for a moment, makes him fear he may be caught off-guard as this stranger busies himself about him but his motions set Kurogane slightly more at ease, smooth and careful.

If the other man realises Kurogane is staring at his strange manner of clothing or odd colouring then he merely smiles the apprehension away, gently laying a soaked rag against his forehead, the cold water trickling blissfully down his skin in icy sluices. The man then rearranged his pillows so that he could almost sit upright, propped up beside the fire, silently and without a single glance. He raised a glass of warm water to Kurogane's lips, boiled and cooled in a separate room, and he drank it with pleasure, for a small moment forgetting that he was allowing another man to care for him and barely caring at all as the warm water slid soothingly down his throat – not hot enough to burn and just cool enough to gently warm him from the inside. From his new sitting position, he could see the details of the man's face with greater clarity – the soft, curved shape to his face and large blue eyes, a chilling hue, the sharp edges to his features and his thin, smiling lips… it was a careful smile: polite yet welcoming, pleasant but at the very same time distant.

He removed the water with the same steady care and now clasped a soup bowl in hand, slowly lifting the spoon, brimming with a liquid, lurid green, to his lips. Kurogane's mouth remained shut, glaring pointedly towards the disgusting soup, deeming this blow to his pride to be far too heavy for him to tolerate.

The blonde man sighed. "It's only herbs. They'll help to cool your fever." He paused, glancing between the ill samurai and his home-brewed soup. "Would it help if I swallowed some? To prove it's not poisoned?"

Kurogane's eyes narrow, tempted to blurt out, 'I'd like to see you try to feed me your damn soup!' only to find the words stumble and dissolve in his mouth, another bead of sweat forming against his skin. Overcome by confusion and exhaustion, he watches the other man raise the spoon and swiftly swallow the vile liquid it contained, immediately dunking it in the bowl again and bringing it towards Kurogane. Realising his stern pout and narrow eyes had gone unchanged, he lightly laughed. "My, my, you must have been more important than we first thought… If it's the spoon-feeding you're hesitant about then feel free to lift your arm and feed yourself." He dribbled the soup from the spoon back into the bowl and held it out towards Kurogane, easily in his reach.

'Gladly' Kurogane thought to himself with a smirk, latching out only to find his arm trembled and felt like a leaden weight against his body. It shook, shining with a thin layer of sweat and he hastily snatched it away and burrowed it under the covers again.  
The other man raised his eyebrows, giving a triumphant smirk. "Thought so…" he mumbled, averting his gaze and dipping the spoon back into the soup. "Just remember who's offering you shelter and food until you're well again. And who has your sword locked in his room." At which he gave a curved smile, knowing and wicked, his eyes sparkling with an enthused gleam.

Kurogane gave a weak snort, recognising blackmail and, after another hesitant pause, reluctantly allowed the blonde man to tip the soup into his mouth, opening it just a fraction. And though it was warm, slipping easily down Kurogane's throat with a soothing heat, the taste nearly caused him to gag. It had the bitter and undeniable taste of raw vegetation, flakes of steaming weed and grass, sitting repulsively on his taste-buds. He wished he could raise his raise his arm and feed himself, give himself some independence at the very least, he wished to snatch the bowl straight from the blonde's clutches and walk straight out the door without having to deal with his meddling, but still this man had potentially saved his life and it would be wrong to say he didn't feel the tiniest sliver of gratitude to him for that. In the meantime, unfortunately he would be forced to trust him.

The blonde man smiled gently, even through Kurogane's reluctant glowers, barely acting as though he were feeding another man at all, whispering as he spooned yet another dose of that vile soup into Kurogane's mouth, "You have nothing to prove to me. And I have nothing to prove to you. You will leave and no-one will ever recall that a scholar cared for a samurai." Strangely, this did seem to soothe Kurogane, relaxing his tensed muscles and allowing himself to fall back on to the pillow at the sound of his softly-spoken words.

A scholar, eh? Seemed to suit him somehow, mixed and mysterious as he was…

And once his meal was over, the scholar set his soup bowl down on to the tray and helped him to lie on his back once more. He stoked the fire, rechecked Kurogane's temperature and tidied away the dishes, all with surprising silence and swiftness.

When he was done with this, he smiled down on his lodger, serenely, comfortingly, and simply said, "My name is Fye. But you should rest now," in that same gentle breath that washed so peacefully over Kurogane. Fye placed the back of his hand against his forehead again, stroking it with care, and much though it sent a stab of frustration through Kurogane, he shut his eyes as commanded. Wary at first, he soon found himself drifting into sleep as that hand brushed lightly over his brow, sinking into a deep and solid darkness, an utterly silent slumber.

* * *

_**a/n: **__Posted especially for 09/09/09! This fanfiction is based on an old Japanese short story called the 'Chrysanthemum Promise' by Ueda Akinari about a scholar who takes care of an ill samurai and eventually they become good friends and then more than friends. When they part, they agree to meet again on the day of the Chrysanthemum Festival on 09/09. I won't spoil the ending though. I have to admit, I did take quite a few liberties but I didn't want to make it OOC or too difficult to write. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love it if you told me if you did since I barely have any of this written and it would definitely entice me to post more ^^'_


	2. Chapter 2

His thoughts seemed to unravel as he lay there, watching the numb sunlight seep slowly over his skin each morning and feeling the fire thaw the bitter chill from his bones each night. Ever so slowly his perception began to sharpen once more, a thick and heavy haze lifting from his senses, and his strength began to pick up again. It washed through him bit by bit, tweaking at his muscles until he could move about a little without great discomfort. His fever soon began to abate, simmering to a faint throb, and the sweat no longer dripped along his skin. Still, he was far too weak to stand.

Most of the time he was left alone with his thoughts seeping from a thick fever-induced swamp, lying on his futon and gradually feeling himself grow stronger with a silent sense of deep relief. He supposed that he was staying within Fye's home. He also supposed that Fye lived alone and that his house must be fairly close to where he had collapsed, though even allowing this didn't quite explain how a figure as lithe as Fye could have carried his cumbersome frame off the slopes.

Fye smiled at the question, picking up another bowl of that vile soup of his. "The villagers nearby found you and carried you here. I volunteered to take you in. It was probably for the best."

"What do you mean?" Kurogane gruffly asked.

Again Fye smiled, pausing to look towards him. "I have far more time and space at home than they do and I know a little about medicine."

"And by medicine do you mean this soup?" Kurogane groaned in distaste, his nose wrinkling at the stewing liquid as Fye lifted it from the tray.

"Ah! I see someone is regaining his strength!" Fye laughed, poking the large brute in the arm and watching gleefully as he writhed at the touch. "That means it's working, Kuro-chan! You should eat up!"

"What gives you the right to call me that?" the samurai promptly snapped, wrenching the spoon and bowl from his hands and reluctantly slurping it down.

The taste never improved.

***

Fye visited his bedside several times a day, punctually and dutifully, bringing food and water each time and providing fresh robes, lighting and stoking the fire at night. To begin with he was almost silent, drifting wordlessly from task to task, and stayed for very little time at all, always passing a quick exchange with Kurogane before he retreated, carrying the empty dishes with him. However as time passed and Kurogane's skin regained its colour and his strength began to build once more, Fye's tongue seemed to unravel. He became more inquisitive about his lodger, and more open to revealing himself. He would ask harmless questions, enquiring his name and his home province, his lord and his duties, and with each answer he would nod his head briefly in acknowledgement and smile as though thankful for this small and basic information.

Kurogane was born in the Suwa province in Japan, raised a proud nobleman and warrior serving under the Lord of the region, though after several outbursts of violence, destroying several of the towns and villages nearby, pillaging them and burning them to the ground, his parents fled with him to the capital. It was there he began his training as a warrior - an art not just of war but of loyalty and honour. The way he spoke of his profession was steeped in pride and enthusiasm. After becoming the strongest warrior within his ranks and fighting valiantly in many battles, he began to serve under the members of the Imperial Palace. Soon he was under oath to swear allegiance only to the young princess of the family, Tsukuyomi.

"The trouble only started when one of her advisors started speaking recklessly and got himself killed," he explained to Fye, slurping on his tea, alas also steeped in herbs.

"Did they catch who did it?" Fye asked, curiously tilting his head.

"Tch, they knew from the start," Kurogane grumbled bitterly, frowning into his cup. "Fei Wang. He has a high seat in power in one of the nearby provinces. They say he's got such a stronghold on the place he practically owns it. But I guess that isn't good enough for him."

"So why didn't they do anything about it then?" the scholar asked, folding his legs underneath him so that he was sitting more comfortably beside Kurogane.

"Don't ask me," he spat to no one in particular, "a lack of guts probably but that's beside the point. It all happened while I was away on a mission. I told them to take the son of a bitch down and found out they'd taken no action whatsoever. When I got that fever, I was travelling back to sort that mess out." At that he stopped talking, bringing the cup to his lips again and taking large, ungraceful gulps.

"All alone? In this region?" Fye perked, his eyebrows neatly furrowed.

"Why? What's wrong with that?" Kurogane muttered defensively.

Fye shook his head. "Nothing I suppose, just it's a difficult pass to traverse when you're unfamiliar with the region and at this time of year the snow storms can rage on for days." Indeed, just outside the heavy hiss and whirl of the winter wind echoed and a fierce white glare passed through the panels into the lit room, faint shadows and spatters of snow dappling the panels.

Fye clapped his hands together, lightly and decisively, a faint curl of a smile on his lips. "Either way, it'd be best for you to rest as much as possible and return to your princess, ne?" He gave a teasing smirk and stood, replacing his own cup on to the wooden tray.

"You seem surprisingly calm to be talking to someone under the command of royalty," Kurogane asked him curiously, an eyebrow raised.

Giving a light chuckle, Fye responded, "This samurai, that samurai, this lord, that lord… all that matters to me is that you need nursed back to health."

Kurogane stiffly swallowed his tea, finding the idea of this man being his nurse as far less than pleasant. "So what about you?"

"Hhhmmm?" Fye mumbled, gazing down on him with wide, surprised eyes.

"I've told you all about me. It's only fair you tell me all about you," the samurai argued, narrowing his eyes pointedly towards him.

Though Fye only smiled faintly and gently. "In time, Kuro-chan, in time…" he muttered, reaching down and picking the cup from Kurogane's grasp, a long, thick strand of golden locks slipping over his shoulder as he did so.

"How about now?" Kurogane snapped at him. "And I told you to quit calling me funny names!" The fairly amused smile Fye sent him at this boiled his blood. He grit his teeth down and bit back a retort.

"Kuro-chan just has to learn to be more patient, ne?" Fye breathed gently and softly, reaching down to clasp a hand to Kurogane's cheek. "And then he can save his princess."

"Tch," Kurogane spat, snatching his hand and throwing it off him, feeling his blood begin to simmer, his face begin to heat.

Smiling softly, Fye rose to stand, completely unaffected by the man's rather blunt and brutal actions, he picked the tray from the floor and shuffled out of the room. "Rest," he said firmly as he opened the sliding door, passing one last sharp look on to the man in bed on the floor before he left the room.

* * *

_**a/n:** If I ever told you that I'd be updating this soon then I sincerely apologise because I bet that was months ago x.x The only reason I haven't been updating is because I've not got much of the rest of it written and this fic hasn't taken priority at any point. I'm sure that I'll finish it or at least try because I have a more romantic scene set out and I'd like to post it :) I have the ending too. So please don't hold your hopes up and just bear with me! The last thing I want to do is leave this unfinished!_


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